A Dance of Lions
by The Goat of Harrenhal
Summary: Sansa's escape goes horribly wrong and if anything, this has serious consequences for the Lannister family. Ch 13 up
1. prologue

**Notes: this chapter is a rehash of Sansa's escape with a different outcome.**

**Disclaimer: GRRM owns everything you recognize.**

**Prologue**

Far across the city, the bells of Baelor's Sept began to toll. Sansa felt as though she were in a dream. "Joffrey is dead," she told the trees, to see if that would wake her.

He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing. Lady Tanda had been fleeing as well. "You have a good heart, my lady," she said to Sansa. "Not every maid would weep so for a man who set her aside and wed her to a dwarf."

A good heart, I have a good heart. Hysterical laughter rose up her gullet, but Sansa choked it back down. The bells were ringing, slow and mournful. Ringing, ringing, ringing. They had rung for King Robert the same way. Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy? She decided that they were.

She found her clothes where she had hidden them, the night before last. With no maids to help her, it took her longer than it should have to undo the laces of her gown. Her hands were strangely clumsy, though she was not as frightened as she ought to have been. "The gods are cruel to take him so young and handsome, at his own wedding feast," Lady Tanda had said to her.

The gods are just, thought Sansa. Robb had died at a wedding feast as well. It was Robb she wept for. Him and Margaery. Poor Margaery, twice wed and twice widowed. Sansa slid her arm from a sleeve, pushed down the gown, and wriggled out of it. She balled it up and shoved it into the bole of an oak, shook out the clothing she had hidden there. Dress warmly, Ser Dontos had told her, and dress dark. She had no blacks, so she chose a dress of thick brown wool. The bodice was decorated with freshwater pearls, though. The cloak will cover them. The cloak was a deep green, with a large hood. She slipped the dress over her head, and donned the cloak, though she left the hood down for the moment. There were shoes as well, simple and sturdy, with flat heels and square toes. The gods heard my prayer, she thought. She felt so numb and dreamy. My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Her hands moved stiffly, awkwardly, as if they had never let down her hair before. For a moment she wished Shae was there, to help her with the net.

When she pulled it free, her long auburn hair cascaded down her back and across her shoulders. The web of spun silver hung from her fingers, the fine metal glimmering softly, the stones black in the moonlight. Black amethysts from Asshai. One of them was missing. Sansa lifted the net for a closer look. There was a dark smudge in the silver socket where the stone had fallen out.

A sudden terror filled her. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and for an instant she held her breath. Why am I so scared, it's only an amethyst, a black amethyst from Asshai, no more than that. It must have been loose in the setting, that's all. It was loose and it fell out, and now it's lying somewhere in the throne room, or in the yard, unless ...

Ser Dontos had said the hair net was magic, that it would take her home. He told her she must wear it tonight at Joffrey's wedding feast. The silver wire stretched tight across her knuckles. Her thumb rubbed back and forth against the hole where the stone had been. She tried to stop, but her fingers were not her own. Her thumb was drawn to the hole as the tongue is drawn to a missing tooth. What kind of magic? The king was dead, the cruel king who had been her gallant prince a thousand years ago. If Dontos had lied about the hair net, had he lied about the rest as well? What if he never comes? What if there is no ship, no boat on the river, no escape? What would happen to her then?

She heard a faint rustle of leaves, and stuffed the silver hair net down deep in the pocket of her cloak. "Who's there?" she cried. "Who is it?" The godswood was dim and dark, and the bells were ringing Joff into his grave.

Sansa pulled away from his touch. "You said I must wear the hair net. The silver net with ... what sort of stones are those?"

"Amethysts. Black amethysts from Asshai, my lady."

"They're no amethysts. Are they? Are they? You lied."

"Black amethysts," he swore. "There was magic in them."

"There was murder in them!"

"Softly, my lady, softly. No murder. He choked on his pigeon pie." Dontos chortled. "Oh, tasty pie. Silver and stones, that's all it was, silver and stone and magic."

The bells were tolling, and the wind was making a noise like he had made as he tried to suck a breath of air. "You poisoned him. You did. You took a stone from my hair..."

"Hush, you'll be the death of us. I did nothing. Come, we must away, they'll search for you. Your husband's been arrested."

"Tyrion?" she said, shocked

"Do you have another husband? The Imp, the dwarf uncle, she thinks he did it." He grabbed her hand and pulled at her. "This way, we must away, quickly now, have no fear." They turned to leave the godswood. Too late. A pair of crimson cloaked Lannister guardsmen entered into the godswood.

"Lady Sansa" one of the men shouted, "The queen has ordered your arrest". Fear gripped Sansa.

"The queen bitch shall not have her!" Dontos declared drunkenly. He tossed aside his brown hooded cloak to reveal a surcoat of red and pink horizontal stripes beneath a black chief bearing three gold crowns, the arms of House Hollard and drew his sword. He lunged at the closest man as the guardsmen drew their own swords in response.

The man parried the swing with ease and drove Dontos back. The second Lannister man rushed towards the disoriented knight turned fool turned knight again. Dontos blocked the thrust but just barely. It would not have mattered though; her drunken knight in shining armor was cut down by the other man at arms with a wicked slash across his exposed neck.

A wail of terror left her throat as Ser Dontos fell and his Life's blood was emptied into the soil of the godswood. The Lannister men seized her by the arms and escorted Sansa out of the godswood. The best she could hope for now was a cell with her dwarf husband.


	2. A tower cell

**Disclaimer: everything belongs to the GRRM reaper**

**Tyrion**

The tower cell was comfortable as far as accommodations go for the accused. It was also proof that Cersei's hold over him was not yet complete; if that was true, then he would have been consigned to the black cells. His lord father clearly had a say in his accommodations. Tyrion supposed that a Lannister in the black cells would shame the family name, _the only thing father ever thinks about_.

The cell had been prepared in a hurry he could tell". Probably in the time it took for my stunted legs to walk here", Tyrion thought aloud. The Goldcloaks had wasted no time in escorting him here. As they walked him out of the feast, Cersei demanded to know where his wife was, he could only shrug before his father sent a score of men to check all the places Sansa would usually be found and ordered the Goldcloaks to shut the gates to the city and lock down the harbor.

Tyrion wondered if they had found her. The men sent to look for her most likely knew where she would be. The armed escort detailed to his wife had frequently rotated thanks to his sister, which would mean that many of his father's men were familiar with her personal habits.

As if to answer his thoughts, the door opened and his wife entered. He noticed the guards behind her and noted that they had found her. She was wearing a green hooded cloak and a dress of brown wool, _she must have been found in our chambers_. Her tearstained face was frozen in a state of pure terror. Even now she looked very beautiful; albeit a haunted sort of beauty.

The heavy wooden door was shut and locked behind her. She ran to the bed and buried her face in the pillows and sobbed openly. "Sansa" he called to her, but she did not respond. Something seemed wrong. His wife never showed this much emotion in his presence. Why would she be crying now, considering everything else she had been through? _She's been a prisoner in all but name,_ unless...

He looked at her again, her choice of clothing made her inconspicuous. It was almost as if she knew that his sister would want her too. But she was long gone when Joffrey finally died, how could she possibly know that the queen would arrest her? Could she have poisoned his nephew and left him to his fate. Oddly enough, it made sense in a strange way, except that he could never imagine Sansa as a killer nor someone capable of such rashness.

Tyrion waddled towards the bed. "What have you done?" He asked her calmly.

**Sansa**

She had done nothing, except for trying to escape King's Landing, but then she realized that he thought she killed Joffrey. The Lannister captain that her captors answered to told her that her that Tyrion was accused by the queen of regicide and kinslaying. The officer also told her that she was accused of the same crimes. Kinslayer_,_ she was a Lannister only in name. They would both be tried for the same crimes.

"Sansa," her dwarf husband called again. She could smell the wine that Joffrey poured on his clothes. This time she thought she heard fear in his voice. "Where did you go?" She finally turned to face him and saw worry in his mismatched eyes.

"To the godswood" she answered truthfully. Tyrion's face contorted into a look of disbelief. "Why?" She did not want to tell him about the hairnet, or Ser Dontos, or the escape that she had been anticipating for months, but he would find out anyway during the trial. Sansa remembered the hairnet; she must have dropped it when they killed Ser Dontos. She paled as she remembered it. The queen would have evidence to condemn them both because of it.

"Ser Dontos told me that would take me home after the wedding if I wore a magical hairnet." Sansa replied weakly

"And you trusted a fool?" Her lord husband glared at her with fury. Sansa was terrified, Tyrion had never really been angry at her. He wanted to strike her, she could see it. Yet he did not.

"I was going to give you Winterfell!" He raised his voice.

"Winterfell is already my home." Sansa said sadly.

"You don't have a home, Winterfell is in ruins and occupied by Boltons. What would you have done after escaping King's Landing?"

Sansa swallowed hard, she knew he was right. There was nobody left in the North to help her. There was nobody left to help her anywhere.

"You trusted a fool, but you could not trust your husband." He said with bitter disappointment.

"You're a Lannister," she said defensibly.

This time he did not hold back and slapped her hard across her left cheek. For a small man, Tyrion was rather strong.

"So are you my dear wife!" Tyrion exclaimed in scornful fury "I suppose that means we are in Cersei's favor."

It seemed so wrong now. Tyrion would never have betrayed her to Joffrey, the queen, or even his lord father. Sansa was struck with the realization of how foolish she had been. Fresh tears spilled from her eyes. Tears are a woman's weapon; she could hear the queen saying. It felt strange that she would think of that now, but she could see her lord husband struggling to control his rage.

"That hairnet, the one you wore to the wedding, did that come from him? " Sansa nodded, "He said that they were black amethysts from Asshai but there was murder in them."

"Yes," Tyrion added with subdued rage "Our murders."

**Notes: I'm not entirely sure where to go from here, feedback would be appreciated. Be sure to drop a review if you like the story.**


	3. Vows

**Disclaimer: everything belongs to the GRRM reaper**

**Jaime**

The king is dead, they told him, never knowing that Joffrey was his son as well as his sovereign.

"The Imp opened his throat with a dagger," a smith declared at the roadside inn where they spent the night. "He drank his blood from a big gold chalice." The man did not recognize the bearded one-handed knight with the big bat on his shield, no more than any of them, so he said things he might otherwise have swallowed, had he known who was listening.

It was poison did the deed," the innkeep insisted. "The boy's face turned black as a plum."

"May the Father judge him justly," murmured a nearby septon.

"The dwarf's wife did the murder with him," swore an archer in Lord Rowan's livery. "Afterwards, she tried to escape with the King's fool."

"What happened" asked one of Jaime Lannister's Northman escorts. "The fool got himself killed and the girl was arrested."

Jaime sat silent through it all, letting the words wash over him, a horn of ale forgotten in his one good hand. Jaime sat silent through it all, letting the words wash over him, a horn of ale forgotten in his one good hand. Joffrey, my blood, my firstborn, my son. He tried to bring the boy's face to mind, but his features kept turning into Cersei's. She will be in mourning, her hair in disarray and her eyes red from crying, her mouth trembling as she tries to speak. She will cry again when she sees me, though she'll fight the tears. His sister seldom wept but when she was with him. She could not stand for others to think her weak.

They rode hard the next day, at Jaime's insistence. He would see Cersei soon, and Tyrion, and their father. Could my brother truly have killed the boy? Jaime found that hard to believe.

**Tyrion**

At long last morning came. The night that was supposed to be Joffrey's wedding night, seemed to last a bitter eternity. _Even in death, my spiteful nephew managed to make his wedding night someone else's misery_.

He could not sleep that night. All he could think about was the trial he would have to endure and the betrayal from his child bride that he had not thought possible. One flesh, one heart, one soul. His mouth twisted. She wasted no time proving how much those vows meant to her, did she? Well, what did you expect, dwarf?

Sansa insisted that she was unaware of the poison in her hairnet until after Joffrey died. He was not sure he could believe her. Joff practically put his cup down in her lap, and he'd given her ample reason.

And yet ... where would Sansa have gotten poison? The girl had not acted alone in this; she needed more help than a wine sodden court jester. Would the judges believe that Tyrion's child bride had poisoned a king without her husband's knowledge then ran away to avoid his fate? I wouldn't. Cersei would insist that they had done the deed together.

He slept on the windowsill away from his wife. Tyrion could hear the quiet irregular breathing of a terrified child. _She betrayed me_. None of this would have happened if I had paid more attention to her. Tyrion felt bad about slapping her the night before, especially after seeing the hurt in those icy blue eyes. He had vowed to protect her from those who would wish her harm. _But she left you for Cersei's mercy stupid dwarf._ He should have planted a child in her young womb on their wedding night, would she still have chosen to wear that damned hairnet and leave him. Would she have chosen to stay with him and accept whatever comfort he could offer? Tyrion wondered if a child in her belly would save Sansa from her fate. It would be too late now; they would both be dead before anything could be proven.

He was unsure if he willing to help her anyway. The gods truly hated the Starks; every time he tried to help them he was punished in a grossly unjust manner. He gave Bran Stark a design for a special saddle only to be abducted by his future good-mother. Tyrion helped protect her from her own folly when the hill tribes attacked their party only to end up in a sky cell. He had prevented Sansa from being beaten at the hands of the Kingsguard and later as a husband gave her the solitude she wanted. The gods were not yet finished punishing him for his kindness to Sansa.

The door to their cell opened and guard served breakfast. Tyrion waddled to the table were the dishes were set. Dornish eggs cooked up with fiery peppers, a small loaf of fresh bread and a flagon of Dornish red. Tyrion wondered briefly if it was some kind of omen.

Sansa got out of bed and made her way for the table. She sat down and cut a slice of the fresh loaf. They broke their fast wordlessly. He could not bear to look at her and neither could she. After his second cup of Dornish red, she finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry my lord."

Tyrion had nothing to say to that. Whatever happened to him would happen to Sansa.


	4. New developments

**Notes: In the future I don't know how often I will be able to update, but for now it will come fast and furious.**

**Disclaimer: everything belongs to the GRRM reaper**

**Tyrion**

"Tyrion," Ser Kevan Lannister said wearily, "if you are indeed innocent of Joffrey's death, you should have no difficulty proving it at trial."

Tyrion looked at him from his window seat "who is to judge us?"

"Justice belongs to the throne. The king is dead, but your father remains Hand. Since it is his own son who stands accused and his grandson who was the victim, he has asked Lord Tyrell and Prince Oberyn to sit in judgment with him."

Tyrion was scarcely reassured. Mace Tyrell had been Joffrey's goodfather, however briefly, and the Red Viper was ... well, a snake. Mace Tyrell would want both of them dead. Prince Oberyn on the other hand might be sympathetic to his wife despite the evidence that would be presented in the trial. "Will I be allowed to demand trial by battle?"

"I would not advise that."

"Why not?" It had saved him in the Vale, why not here? "Answer me, Uncle. Will I be allowed a trial by battle, and a champion to prove my innocence?"

"Certainly, if such is your wish. However, you had best know that your sister means to name Ser Gregor Clegane as her champion, in the event of such a trial."

_The bitch checks my moves before I make them_. A pity she didn't choose a Kettleblack. Bronn would make short work of any of the three brothers, but the Mountain That Rides was a kettle of a different color. "I shall need to sleep on this." I need to speak with Bronn, and soon. He didn't want to think about what this was like to cost him. Bronn had a lofty notion of what his skin was worth. "Does Cersei have witnesses against me?"

"More every day," said his uncle.

"Then I must have witnesses of my own."

"Tell me who you would have, and Ser Addam will send the Watch to bring them to the trial."

"I would sooner find them myself."

"You and your wife stand accused of regicide and kinslaying. Do you truly imagine you will be allowed to come and go as you please?" Ser Kevan waved at the table. "You have quill, ink, and parchment. Write the names of such witnesses as you require, and I shall do all in my power to produce them, you have my word as a Lannister. But you shall not leave this tower, except to go to trial."

Tyrion would not demean himself by begging. "Will you permit my squire to come and go? The boy Podrick Payne?"

"Certainly, if that is your wish. I shall send him to you."

"Do so. Sooner would be better than later, and now would be better than sooner." He waddled to the writing table. But when he heard the door open, he turned back and said, "Uncle?"

Ser Kevan paused. "Yes?"

"I did not do this."

Kevan glanced briefly at Sansa, who said nothing during the whole conversation, then looked back at him. "I wish I could believe that, Tyrion."

When the door closed, Tyrion Lannister pulled himself up into the chair, sharpened a quill, and pulled a blank parchment. "Who will speak for us, my lord?" asked Sansa. He dipped his quill in the inkpot.

"I do not know," said Tyrion honestly.

**Jaime**

The gates to the Red Keep were open, but a dozen gold cloaks armed with pikes barred the way. They lowered their points as Steelshanks came trotting up, but Jaime recognized the white knight commanding them. "Ser Meryn."

Ser Meryn Trant's droopy eyes went wide. "Ser Jaime?"

"How nice to be remembered. Move these men aside."

It had been a long time since anyone had leapt to obey him quite so fast. Jaime had forgotten how much he liked it.

They found two more Kingsguard in the outer ward; two who had not worn white cloaks when Jaime last served here. How like Cersei to name me Lord Commander and then choose my colleagues without consulting me. "Someone has given me two new brothers, I see," he said as he dismounted.

"We have that honor, ser." The Knight of Flowers shone so fine and pure in his white scales and silk that Jaime felt a tattered and tawdry thing by contrast.

Jaime turned to Meryn Trant. "Ser, you've been remiss in teaching our new brothers their duties."

"What duties?" said Meryn Trant defensively.

"Keeping the king alive. How many monarchs have you lost since I left the city? Two, is it? "

Then Ser Balon saw the stump. "Your hand..."

Jaime made himself smile. "I fight with my left now. It makes for more of a contest. Where will I find my lord father?"

"In the solar with Lord Tyrell and Prince Oberyn, they are to preside over your brother's trial as well as Lady Sansa's."

_Shit_ thought Jaime, Lady Catelyn was dead and one of her daughters was on trial for helping his brother murder his son. Brienne would not take this news well. He also wondered how willing his lord father would be to condemn his own son and decided that he would rather not know.

"Is the queen with them as well?"

"No, my lord," Ser Balon answered. "You'll find her in the sept, praying over King Joff -

"You!"

The last of the northmen had dismounted, Jaime saw, and now Loras Tyrell had seen Brienne.

"Ser Loras." She stood stupidly, holding her bridle.

Loras Tyrell strode toward her. "Why?" he said. "You will tell me why. He treated you kindly, gave you a rainbow cloak. Why would you kill him?"

"I never did. I would have died for him."

"You will." Ser Loras drew his longsword.

"It was not me."

"Emmon Cuy swore it was, with his dying breath."

"He was outside the tent, he never saw -"

"There was no one in the tent but you and Lady Stark. Do you claim that old woman could cut through hardened steel?"

"There was a shadow I know how mad it sounds, but ... I was helping Renly into his armor, and the candles blew out and there was blood everywhere. It was Stannis, Lady Catelyn said. His ... his shadow. I had no part in it, on my honor..."

"You have no honor. Draw your sword. I won't have it said that I slew you while your hand was empty."

Jaime stepped between them. "Put the sword away, ser."

Ser Loras edged around him. "Are you a craven as well as a killer, Brienne? Is that why you ran, with his blood on your hands? Draw your sword, woman!"

"Best hope she doesn't." Jaime blocked his path again. "Or it's like to be your corpse we carry out. The wench is as strong as Gregor Clegane, though not so pretty."

"This is no concern of yours." Ser Loras shoved him aside.

Jaime grabbed the boy with his good hand and yanked him around. "I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, you arrogant pup. Your commander, as long as you wear that white cloak. Now sheathe your bloody sword, or I'll take it from you and shove it up some place even Renly never found."

The boy hesitated half a heartbeat, long enough for Ser Balon Swann to say, "Do as the Lord Commander says, Loras." Some of the gold cloaks drew their steel then, and that made some Dreadfort men do the same. Splendid, thought Jaime, no sooner do I climb down off my horse than we have a bloodbath in the yard.

Ser Loras Tyrell slammed his sword back into its sheath.

"That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

"I want her arrested." Ser Loras pointed. "Lady Brienne, I charge you with the murder of Lord Renly Baratheon."

For what it's worth," said Jaime, "the wench does have honor. More than I have seen from you. And it may even be she's telling it true. I'll grant you, she's not what you'd call clever, but even my horse could come up with a better lie, if it was a lie she meant to tell. As you insist, however ... Ser Balon, escort Lady Brienne to a tower cell and hold her there under guard. At least the wench would be under guard when she heard about Lady Sansa Jaime thought with some relief. And find some suitable quarters for Steelshanks and his men, until such time as my father can see them."

"Yes, my lord."

Brienne's big blue eyes were full of hurt as Balon Swann and a dozen gold cloaks led her away. You ought to be blowing me kisses, wench, he wanted to tell her. Why must they misunderstand every bloody thing he did? Aerys. It all grows from Aerys. Jaime turned his back on the wench and strode across the yard.

Jaime Lannister walked towards the sept with a strange mixture of excitement and fear. Jaime felt excitement for his sweet sister, and fear for the subject of his brother and Lady Sansa. His gut told him that this conversation would be quite bittersweet.

**Notes: although I didn't initially plan on it, I'm going to modify Jaime and Brienne's story arcs eventually to fit the story. In the future I plan to merge the books with some elements of the show. As always, drop a review or at least a favorite.**


	5. You can't love them all

**Sansa**

The door opened and Tyrion's squire, Podrick Payne entered the room. "My lord, My Lady" the boy said with shyness. Tyrion was still staring at the blank parchment.

Tyrion put down the quill. "Find Bronn and bring him at once. Tell him there's gold in it, more gold than he's ever dreamt of, and see that you don't return without him."

"Yes, my lord. I mean, no. I won't. Return." He went.

Sansa looked at Tyrion with renewed worry. "Are you going to demand a trial by battle?"

"Only if Bronn accepts, he saved me from your touched aunt you know."

Sansa was curious and she had not heard the whole story. "How did you meet Bronn?"

Tyrion told her the story of how the sellsword came to Tyrion's defense in the Vale. When he was done he added "my brother would have been my first choice, but I doubt he's in town". When he mentioned his brother he looked sad and distant. "Oh gods, could you imagine the tears of blood my sweet sister would cry if he became our champion."

**Jaime**

Another knight in white armor was guarding the doors of the royal sept; a tall man with a black beard, broad shoulders, and a hooked nose. When he saw Jaime he gave a sour smile and said, "And where do you think you're going?"

"Into the sept." Jaime lifted his stump to point. "That one right there. I mean to see the queen."

"Her Grace is in mourning. And why would she be wanting to see the likes of you?"

Because I'm her lover, and the father of her murdered son, he wanted to say. "Who in seven hells are you?"

"A knight of the Kingsguard, and you'd best learn some respect, cripple, or I'll have that other hand and leave you to suck up your porridge of a morning."

"I am the queen's brother, ser."

The white knight thought that funny. "Escaped, have you? And grown a bit as well, m'lord?"

"Her other brother, dolt. And the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Now stand aside or you'll wish you had."

The dolt took a long look this time. What possessed Cersei to give that man a white cloak? "Is it ... Ser Jaime?" He straightened. "My pardons, milord. I did not know you. I have the honor to be Ser Osmund Kettleblack."

Where's the honor in that? "I want some time alone with my sister. See that no one else enters the sept, ser. If we're disturbed, I'll have your bloody head."

"Aye, ser. As you say." Ser Osmund opened the door.

Cersei was kneeling before the altar of the Mother. Joffrey's bier had been laid out beneath the Stranger, who led the newly dead to the other world. The smell of incense hung heavy in the air, and a hundred candles burned, sending up a hundred prayers. Joff's like to need every one of them, too.

His sister looked over her shoulder. "Who?" she said, then, "Jaime?" She rose, her eyes brimming with tears. "Is it truly you?" She did not come to him, however. She has never come to me, he thought. She has always waited, letting me come to her. She gives, but I must ask. "You should have come sooner," she murmured, when he took her in his arms. "Why couldn't you have come sooner, to keep him safe? My boy...

Our boy. "I came as fast I could." He broke from the embrace, and stepped back a pace. "It's war out there, Sister."

"You look so thin. And your hair, your golden hair. . ."

"The hair will grow back." Jaime lifted his stump. She needs to see it. "This won't."

Her eyes went wide. "The Starks..."

"No. This was Vargo Hoat's work."

"The Goat of Harrenhal. For a little while."

Cersei turned to gaze at Joffrey's bier. They had dressed the dead king in gilded armor, eerily similar to Jaime's own. The visor of the helm was closed, but the candles reflected softly off the gold, so the boy shimmered bright and brave in death. The candlelight woke fires in the rubies that decorated the bodice of Cersei's mourning dress as well. Her hair fell to her shoulders, undressed and unkempt. "They killed him, Jaime. Tyrion and his wife. It was just as he'd warned me. One day when I thought myself safe and happy he would turn my joy to ashes in my mouth, he said."

"Tyrion said that?" Jaime had not wanted to believe it. Kinslaying was worse than kingslaying, in the eyes of gods and men. He knew the boy was mine. I loved Tyrion. I was good to him. Well, but for that one time ... but his brother did not know the truth of that. Or did he? "Why would he kill Joff?"

"For that murderous little bitch." She clutched his good hand and held it tight in hers. "He told me he was going to do it. Joff knew. As he was dying, he pointed at his murderer. At our twisted little monster of a brother." She kissed Jaime's fingers. "You'll kill them both for me, won't you? You'll avenge our son."

Jaime pulled away. Cersei was asking him to kill his brother and a child, a child that he had sworn to bring to Lady Catelyn. Now she was his little brother's wife.

"He is still my brother, and his wife is a child." He shoved his stump at her face, in case she failed to see it.

"And Joffrey was your son!" Cersei raised her voice.

"I must know more of this. Of how it happened."

"You shall," Cersei promised. "There's to be a trial. When you hear all they did, you'll want them dead as much as I do."

**Sorry just a filler chapter.**


	6. The Kingslayer Brothers

**Disclaimer: everything belongs to the GRRM reaper**

**Jaime **

The sun was setting when he finally entered the Tower of the Hand. It was guarded by Lannister household guards, who knew him at once. "The gods are good, to give you back to us, ser," one said, as he held the door.

He climbed the stairs and pushed into the solar unannounced, to find his father sitting by the fire. Lord Tywin was alone, for which Jaime was thankful. He had no desire to flaunt his maimed hand for Mace Tyrell or the Red Viper just now, much less the two of them together.

"Jaime," Lord Tywin said, as if they'd last seen each other at breakfast. "Lord Bolton led me to expect you earlier. I had hoped you'd be here for the wedding."

"I was delayed." Jaime closed the door softly. "My sister outdid herself, I'm told. Seventy-seven courses and a regicide, never a wedding like it. How long have you known I was free?"

"The eunuch told me a few days after your escape."

"Did Varys mention this?" He moved closer to the fire, to let his father see.

Lord Tywin pushed himself out of his chair, breath hissing between his teeth. "Who did this?

"This was your goat's work. Vargo Hoat, the Lord of Harrenhal." Jaime responded with some annoyance.

Lord Tywin looked away, disgusted. "No longer. Ser Gregor's taken the castle. The sellswords deserted their erstwhile captain almost to a man, and some of Lady Whent's old people opened a postern gate. Clegane found Hoat sitting alone in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, half-mad with pain and fever from a wound that festered. His ear, I'm told."

Jaime had to laugh. Too sweet! His ear! He could scarcely wait to tell Brienne, though the wench wouldn't find it half as funny as he did.

"What about his Brave Companions?"

"The few who stayed at Harrenhal are dead. The others scattered. They'll make for ports, I'll warrant, or try and lose themselves in the woods." His eyes went back to Jaime's stump, and his mouth grew taut with fury. "We'll have their heads. Every one. Can you use a sword with your left hand?"

I can hardly dress myself in the morning. Jaime held up the hand in question for his father's inspection. "Four fingers, a thumb, much like the other. Why shouldn't it work as well?"

"Good." His father sat. "That is good. I have a gift for you. For your return. After Varys told me . . .-

"Unless it's a new hand, let it wait." Jaime took the chair across from him. "How did Joffrey die?"

"Poison. It was meant to appear as though he choked on a morsel of food, but I had his throat slit open and the maesters could find no obstruction."

"Cersei claims that Tyrion did it."

"Your brother served the king the poisoned wine, with a thousand people looking on. His wife was wearing a hairnet that carried the poison." His father continued. "I have taken Tyrion's squire into custody. His wife's maids as well. We shall see if they have anything to tell us. The king's justice will be done."

"You would condemn your own son to die?" in his guts, Jaime knew the answer, but he had to ask.

**Tyrion**

Another morning entered his cell. Bronn still had not come and his trial would begin in two days. _The insolent bastard_. But then again was that not the reason he liked Bronn in the first place? At least he got a descent sleep last night. His wife never said it in many words but it seemed that she had finally made her peace with him. It seemed funny that she was more open to him when he was a prisoner himself. He did not even have a real conversation with her until yesterday.

For his part, he was not angry with her, well not as much he was yesterday. Maybe it was that look Sansa always gave him. The look of a frightened child that realized he was the only friend she had left.

The door opened and instead of breakfast, he saw someone he never thought he would live to see again.

"You?"

"Well, most of me." Jaime was gaunt, his hair hacked short. "I left a hand at Harrenhal. Bringing the Brave Companions across the narrow sea was not one of Father's better notions." He lifted his arm, and Tyrion saw the stump.

Despite himself, a bark of hysterical laughter burst from his lips. "Oh, gods," he said. "Jaime, I am so sorry, but ... gods be good, look at the two of us. Handless and Noseless the Lannister boys."

"There were days when my hand smelled so bad I wished I was noseless." Jaime studied his nose. "An impressive scar."

"They made me fight a battle without my big brother to protect me."

"I heard tell you almost burned the city down."

"A filthy lie. I only burned the river." Abruptly, Tyrion remembered where he was, and why. "Are you here to kill me?"

"Well, now that you mention it she did ask." Jaime drawled.

"Did she ask you to kill her too?" Tyrion gestured to his mortified wife who sat on the bed.

Jaime nodded with some reluctance.

"Did you kill Cersei's son?" asked Jaime.

"Cersei's son?" Tyrion asked him with strange amusement his voice. He looked over at Sansa, if she knew the truth of Joffrey's parentage, she was hiding it well. Jaime looked at her too for a moment with guilt on his face.

Jaime then looked at him "Don't." Jaime said in a low voice with a disapproving nod.

"Well, the trial starts in two days."

"Ah yes." Tyrion exhaled, "trial for regicide and kinslaying."

"The Kingslayer brothers." Tyrion widened his hands with a theatrical gesture

"I like it, but do you think really we killed your son?" The color drained from Sansa's face at that comment, but Tyrion was past caring, he was sure he would have to tell her the truth after Jaime left anyway.

"And you are asking if I would kill you." Jaime continued thoughtfully, "what can I do."

"Could you smuggle two people out of King's Landing?"

He saw an expression of discomfort on his brother's face.

"Both of you are accused of treason, freeing you is treason." Jaime said with concern, "but there will be a trial."

Tyrion saw his wife mutter something inaudible.

"One of judges has wanted me dead my whole life, another hates me because of my wife, the last judge hates all Lannisters, and my sister." Tyrion paused at the mention of her name. "My sister has already tried to kill me in a not so discreet manner." He scratched the stump of his nose to give emphasis to his sister's determination. "Cersei doesn't want justice; she wants my head on a spike guilty or innocent."

"Not just yours"

"Someone gave her a pretty hairnet and convinced her to wear it to Joffrey's wedding, but Cersei won't care about that."

There was something Jaime wanted to say. Instead he simply rose from his chair, he left the cell.

Sansa crossed the room sat down in the chair that Jaime had just vacated and looked him straight in his mismatched eyes. Her eyes were the same pools of blue flame he saw in her lady mother but never in her. This conversation was going to be more difficult than he thought.


	7. Truth and consequences

**Sansa**

"So my father was right." Sansa heard herself say aloud, neither Tyrion nor his brother paid any attention.

_Do you really think we killed your son?_ She felt her world turn upside down when her husband asked the question. Joffrey was Jaime's son… no bastard, fathered on his own … sister. She paled at the revelation.

Her father had learned the truth and died for it. She had suffered greatly for being a 'traitor's daughter.' Except that in reality Joffrey had been a traitor's son.

And Tyrion knew about it. Sansa did not understand how could he know the truth and still be loyal to the iron throne. Because he is a Lannister, that's why, Sansa thought bitterly. But from what she saw he hated his family, Except for Jaime, Tommen, and Myrcella. Had he been a devoted Lannister because of a brother, a niece and a nephew when all the people he hated were in control of his life?

As soon as Jaime left the room, she sat down in the vacated seat still warm. It took all the courage she had to look Tyrion in his ugly mismatched eyes. She had to hear him say it.

"Was Joffrey… Jaime's son?" Tyrion nodded slowly.

"The rumors about my brother and sister are true."

"My father…" Her voice faltered.

"Your father learned our family secret and it cost him his life, and that of his boyhood friend Robert Baratheon." Tyrion said gravely. "In fact anybody who finds out dies sooner than later."

"How long have you known this?"

"My brother and sister have been … close as long as I remember. It wasn't until after your father died that I told Cersei I knew."

"But why would your sister want to kill you for that?" There had to be more to the story.

"If truth be told, she's wanted me dead for a long time, if it wasn't for my brother I probably would have died an infant."

"And Sansa, even if we still have our heads on our shoulders afterwards, we will not be safe from her."

The door opened behind her. It was time for breakfast, but she had already lost her appetite.

**Jaime**

Cersei had summoned him to her solar. He should be happy to see her. Then why did he feel so uneasy?

It was his conversation with Tyrion, Jaime decided.

He was about to ask Sansa Stark…no Lannister how his brother was treating her but one quick look at her face suggested that it was time to leave. He wondered how his good sister would react to knowing that he had fathered three children. From the look he saw, it seemed as if she had just found out.

Jaime entered the queen's solar where he found Cersei pouring a cup of wine. The look of sadness on her face was hard for Jaime to bear.

"You sent for me, your grace."

"Your grace, how formal of you." The quiet disapproval in her voice was evident.

"Why did Catelyn Stark set you free?" Cersei asked bluntly.

"Lady Stark wanted her daughters back."

Cersei rose from her seat and walked towards him.

"And what did you promise?"

"I promised that if they were alive, I would return them to her." He said with conviction.

"You made a holy vow to the enemy."

Jaime did not like where this was going.

"I wanted to return to your side. Should I have refused?"

"You owe no loyalty to Catelyn Stark."

"Catelyn Stark is dead."

"And what if I told you to gut that ungrateful, murderous, little bitch in front of Tyrion?" The venom in her voice grew with every word. She was so beautiful when she wanted someone dead _even when it's a little girl_. "I know you went to see them this morning."

"I had to hear it myself."

"And?" Cersei was not placated.

"They are innocent, both of them."

"You always pitied him, our poor little brother. He would kill us all if he could and Sansa would help him every step of the way."

He was at a loss for words.

"That will be all lord commander."

Wordlessly, Jaime bowed his head and left. Sooner or later he would have to make a choice.

**Tyrion**

"Damn you Bronn", Tyrion groaned inwardly. Another friend had left him for Cersei's promises of wealth, title, and marriage. Despite what he'd told Bronn, going up against Ser Gregor Clegane in his own person would be a bigger farce than Joffrey's jousting dwarfs. He did not intend to die with gales of laughter ringing in his ears. So much for trial by combat.

Afterwards Tyrion asked Podrick about his sister's preparations for the trial. Tyrion was not at all surprised to hear that Cersei wanted to buy Podrick's testimony in exchange for a knighthood. He was touched to hear that Pod had refused the offer. But who else has she bought off?

Sansa asked him if he was actually considering fighting the mountain himself. "The monstrous dwarf saving his maiden wife from a bear in human skin. It seems like the stuff of songs."

"You are not a monster, Tyrion." She tried to reassure him, but it seemed to him as if she was still trying to convince herself. _Damn, she finally calls me by my name._

"Oh, but I am, it is the reason I have lived this long. Sooner or later, we all become monsters in King's Landing."


	8. Cloaks of white

**Tyrion**

Addam Marbrand entered the cell with four of the gold cloaks.

Tyrion and his wife had dressed in their finest. "Ser Addam," he said. "I had thought my father might send the Kingsguard to escort us to trial. We are still members of the royal family, are we not?"

"Yes, my lord, but I fear that most of the Kingsguard stand witness against you and Lady Sansa. Lord Tywin felt it would not be proper for them to serve as your guards."

"What about Jaime?"

"Your father won't allow Ser Jaime to escort you because he is your brother. He deems that improper as well."

"Gods forbid we do anything improper. Please, lead on." If Tyrion got out of this alive he was going to arrange an accident for his dear lord father before anything happened to him. And Cersei too, he wondered what Cersei would look like in a bowl of brown.

Two of the gold Cloaks moved for Sansa and proceeded to put her in fetters.

"Sorry my lady, Lord Tywin's orders." Ser Addam spoke with regret.

"What, no chains for me?" Tyrion arched his brow.

"Lady Sansa tried to avoid arrest, my lord." Ser Addam's tone was calm but firm and unyielding.

He was to be tried in the throne room, where Joffrey had died. As Ser Addam marched him through the towering bronze doors and down the long carpet, he felt the eyes upon him. Hundreds had crowded in to see him judged. At least he hoped that was why they had come. For all I know, they're all witnesses against me. He spied Queen Margaery up in the gallery, pale and beautiful in her mourning. Twice wed and twice widowed, and only sixteen. Her mother stood tall to one side of her, her grandmother small on the other, with her ladies in waiting and her father's household knights packing the rest of the gallery.

Someone in the audience shouted "Kingslayer" at him. Tyrion's blood boiled at that insult. _He would never dare say that to Jaime_. _On the other hand, kingslaying is looking more and more like a Lannister family tradition_, Tyrion thought to himself.

The dais still stood beneath the empty iron Throne, though all but one table had been removed. Behind it sat stout Lord Mace Tyrell in a gold mantle over green, and slender Prince Oberyn Martell in flowing robes of striped orange, yellow, and scarlet. Lord Tywin Lannister sat between them. Perhaps there's hope for me yet. The Domishman and the Highgardener despised each other. If I can find a way to use that...

He saw Jaime standing between the judges and himself.

Sansa was ushered into the stand for the accused where her guards shackled her to the stand. Tyrion's guards gestured for him to enter the stand as well. _It was made for one person, but I won't need much room._

The High Septon began with a prayer, asking the Father Above to guide them to justice. When he was done the father below leaned forward to say, "Tyrion, did you kill King Joffrey?"

"No."

"Lady Sansa, did you kill King Joffrey?"

"No." If Sansa was afraid of his father, she was hiding it well.

"There are witnesses against you," Lord Tywin said. "We shall hear them first. Then you may present your own witnesses. Neither of you are to speak without our leave."

There was naught that Tyrion could do but nod.

Ser Addam had told it true; the first man ushered in was Ser Balon Swann of the Kingsguard. "Lord Hand," he began, after the High Septon had sworn him to speak only truth, "I had the honor to fight beside your son on the bridge of ships. He is a brave man for all his size, and I will not believe he did this thing."

A murmur went through the hall, and Tyrion wondered what mad game Cersei was playing. One quick look at Ser Balon was all he needed to see that Ser Balon was reluctant to testify. Why offer a witness that believes me innocent? He soon learned. Ser Balon spoke reluctantly of how he had pulled Tyrion away from Joffrey on the day of the riot. "He did strike His Grace, that's so. It was a fit of wroth, no more. A summer storm. The mob near killed us all."

"In the days of the Targaryens, a man who struck one of the blood royal would lose the hand he struck him with," observed the Red Viper of Dorne. "Did the dwarf regrow his little hand, or did you White Swords forget your duty?"

"He was of royal blood himself," Ser Balon answered. "And the King's Hand beside."

"No," Lord Tywin said slightly annoyed. "He was acting Hand, in my stead."

Ser Meryn Trant was pleased to expand on Ser Balon's account, when he took his place as witness. "He knocked the king to the ground and began kicking him. He shouted that it was unjust that His Grace had escaped unharmed from the mobs."

Tyrion began to grasp his sister's plan. She began with a man known to be honest, and milked him for all he would give. Every witness to follow will tell a worse tale, until I seem as bad as Maegor the Cruel and Aerys the Mad together, with a pinch of Aegon the Unworthy for spice.

Ser Meryn went on to relate how Tyrion had stopped Joffrey's chastisement of his future wife. "The dwarf asked His Grace if he knew what had happened to Aerys Targaryen. When Ser Boros spoke up in defense of the king, the Imp threatened to have him killed."

Sansa was clearly indignant but said nothing. Ser Meryn on the other hand, seemed to be smirking as he told the tale, but that was only because he was unaware of the look of both shame and anger on Jamie's face.

Tyrion could no longer hold his tongue. "Tell the judges what Joffrey was doing, why don't you. He had a loaded crossbow pointed at Sansa while you tore her clothes and beat her."

"Tyrion," Lord Tywin said. "You are to speak only when we call upon you. Take this for a warning."

Tyrion subsided, seething.

The Kettleblacks came next, all three of them in turn. Osney and Osfryd told the tale of his supper with Cersei before the Battle of the Blackwater, and of the threats he'd made.

Ser Osmund Kettleblack, a vision of chivalry in immaculate scale armor and white wool cloak, swore that King Joffrey had long known that his uncle Tyrion meant to murder him. "It was the day they gave me the white cloak, my lords," he told the judges. "That brave boy said to me, 'Good Ser Osmund, guard me well, for my uncle loves me not. He means to be king in my place." Tyrion could not help but wonder what Jaime thought of this whit less sellsword turned white knight.

That was more than Tyrion could stomach. "Liar!"

Lord Tywin frowned. "Must we put you in fetters like your wife?"

Tyrion gnashed his teeth. A second mistake, you fool of a dwarf. Keep your calm or you're doomed. "No. I beg your pardons, my lords. His lies angered me."

"His truths, you mean," said Cersei. "Father, I beg you to put him in fetters, for your own protection. You see how he is."

"I see he's a dwarf," said Prince Oberyn. "The day I fear a dwarf's wrath is the day I drown myself in a cask of red."

"We need no fetters." Lord Tywin glanced at the windows, and rose. "The hour grows late. We shall resume on the morrow."

His trial was only beginning.

**Jaime**

"You would sentence your own son to death." Jaime asked his father once more.

Lord Tywin spoke without emotion "I have condemned no one, and this trial has yet to end."

"You dare call this a trial, this is a farce!" Jaime was offended by the mummer's show his sister was running.

"Tyrion killed his killed his king." His father answered flatly.

"And I killed the king I was sworn to defend."

Tywin Lannister was listening to him while writing a letter, his father's favorite way of showing cold indifference to whoever he faced in the Tower of the Hand.

"If your brother is found guilty, then he will be punished accordingly."

Jaime took two steps closer two his father. "You value your legacy above all else. What happens to it when Tyrion dies with his wife who is to bear your grandchildren? I am a Knight of the Kingsguard forbidden from continuing your legacy."

His lord father turned to look at him with his luminous green eyes. "I am well aware of your vows."

"Who carries the Lannister name, Kevan, I don't think any of his sons are going to continue the line."

"What happens to the Lannister name if I spare the lives of my grandson's killers?"

Jaime would have to make a few sacrifices here, "the Lannister name will continue through me. I will allow the high septon to release me of my vows and become your son and heir if you let Tyrion live."

"Done" his father answered too quickly for Jaime's liking. _This won't be good._

"If Tyrion pleads guilty, I will allow him to join the Night's Watch. He will depart for Eastwatch-by-the-sea. You will remove your white cloak and leave for the rock. In time you will marry a suitable wife and father Lannister children."

Jaime exhaled with no real sense of relief.

"And what about Lady Sansa?" Jaime asked concerned.

"Lady Sansa will face Ser Ilyn alone." The coldness in his father's tone bothered Jaime.

"You said I would take a suitable wife, I will marry her myself father if it that's what it takes to save her from Ser Ilyn."

"You are bigger fool than your brother if you think my grandson's killer will carry the heirs to Casterly Rock. Cersei told me about your oath to Lady Catelyn. Forget about it, even Tullys put Family before honor."

Jaime turned his back on his father, this time, in the literal sense. He slammed the door behind him. _Gods, he hated his father._


	9. Poisons

**Tyrion**

Maesters Ballabar and Frenken opened the second day of trial. They had opened King Joffrey's noble corpse as well, they swore, and found no morsel of pigeon pie nor any other food lodged in the royal throat. "It was poison that killed him, my lords," said Ballabar, as Frenken nodded gravely.

Then they brought forth Grand Maester Pycelle, leaning heavily on a twisted cane and shaking as he walked, a few white hairs sprouting from his long chicken's neck. He had grown too frail to stand, so the judges permitted a chair to be brought in for him, and a table as well. On the table were laid a number of small jars. Pycelle was all too pleased to put a name to each.

"Greycap," he said in a quavery voice, "from the toadstool. Nightshade, sweetsleep, demon's dance. This is blindeye. Widow's blood, this one is called, for the color. A cruel potion. It shuts down a man's bladder and bowels, until he drowns in his own poisons. This wolfsbane, here basilisk venom, and this one the tears of Lys. Yes. I know them all. The Imp Tyrion Lannister plundered them from my chambers, when he had me falsely imprisoned."

Pycelle pulled the hairnet out from his sleeves and displayed it for the crowd to see.

"This hairnet was found in the godswood where Lady Sansa was captured attempting to flee King's Landing with Ser Dontos Hollard. She wore this hairnet to King Joffrey's wedding." Pycelle gave the hairnet a light shake. "In place of the missing stone, residue was found of the most rare and terrible poison."

"Was this one of the poisons stolen from your chambers?" His father asked.

"It was my lord, the strangler."

"A poison few in the seven kingdoms posses, and used to murder the noblest child the gods ever put on this good earth."

Tyrion's anger overwhelmed his sense. "Joffrey was cruel and stupid, but I did not kill him. Have my head off if you like, I had no hand in my nephew's death."

"Silence!" Lord Tywin said. "I have told you thrice. The next time, you shall be gagged and chained."

After Pycelle came the procession, endless and wearisome. Lords and ladies and noble knights, highborn and humble alike, they had all been present at the wedding feast, had all seen Joffrey choke, his face turning as black as a Dornish plum. Lord Redwyne, Lord Celtigar, and Ser Flement Brax had heard Tyrion threaten the king; two serving men, a juggler, Lord Gyles, Ser Hobber Redwyne, and Ser Philip Foote had observed him fill the wedding chalice; Lady Merryweather swore that she had seen Sansa drop the poison into the king's wine while Joff and Margaery were cutting the pie; old Estermont, young Peckledon, the singer Galyeon of Cuy, and the squires Morros and Jothos Slynt told how Tyrion had picked up the chalice as Joff was dying and poured out the last of the poisoned wine onto the floor.

When did I make so many enemies? Lady Merryweather was all but a stranger. Tyrion wondered if she was blind or bought. At least Galyeon of Cuy had not set his account to music, or else there might have been seventy-seven bloody verses to it.

"Lord Varys," the herald said, "master of whisperers."

Powdered, primped, and smelling of rosewater, the Spider rubbed his hands one over the other all the time he spoke. Washing ours lives away,

For the rest of the day, he listened to the eunuch's mournful account of how the Imp had schemed to part Joffrey from the Hound's protection and spoken with Bronn of the benefits of having Tornmen as king. Half-truths are worth more than outright lies. And unlike the others, Varys had documents; parchments painstakingly filled with notes, details, dates, whole conversations. So much material that its recitation took all day, and so much of it damning. Varys confirmed Tyrion's midnight visit to Grand Maester Pycelle's chambers and the theft of his poisons and potions, confirmed the threat he'd made to Cersei the night of their supper, and confirmed every bloody thing but the poisoning itself. The eunuch even claimed that his marriage made him sympathetic to Robb Stark. When Prince Oberyn asked him how he could possibly know all this, not having been present at any of these events, the eunuch only giggled and said, "My little birds told me. Knowing is their purpose, and mine."

How do I question a little bird? thought Tyrion. I should have had the eunuch's head off my first day in King's Landing. Damn him. And damn me for whatever trust I put in him.

"Have we heard it all?" Lord Tywin asked his daughter as Varys left the hall.

"Almost," said Cersei. "I beg your leave to bring one final witness before you, on the morrow."

"As you wish," Lord Tywin said.

Oh, good, thought Tyrion savagely. After this farce of a trial, execution will almost come as a relief.

**Sansa**

That evening, her good brother came to visit. Ser Jaime was a handsome man, even in his current state. Even still, she could only look at him in revulsion. The man who had secretly fathered Joffrey and crippled Bran. Just when Sansa thought that Jaime could not be worse, Tyrion admitted his suspicions of what happened to Bran. Still Sansa did not want to say anything about Jaime for the unconditional love that Tyrion bore his brother.

"The trial is not going well is it?" Tyrion was good at masking his fear, but she could see it all the same.

"You're going to be found guilty. Father says he will allow you to join the Night's Watch if you enter a plea for mercy."

Tyrion only laughed at his brother. "Those were the same terms Cersei offered Ned Stark. We all know how that ended. Will Lady Sansa be permitted to join me?" Her dwarf husband asked with unbridled sarcasm.

"No." Jaime Lannister looked at her with genuine sadness "I'm sorry, Lady Sansa but there is no plea deal for you. I offered to leave the Kingsguard in exchange for Tyrion's life, and I even offered to marry you in exchange for your life, but father refused."

Sansa knew that she should have been grateful for the offer but instead, she could only feel disgust at the idea of bearing this man's children.

"How is my brother treating you?" Jaime asked with somberness still in his voice.

"He is good to me, My Lord." Sansa replied with her usual voice for courtesies. Her good brother seemed relieved though Tyrion looked ashamed.

"When you see father, tell him I am not in a confessing mood."

Shortly after Jaime left, Prince Oberyn came to pay a visit.

"Are judges permitted to visit the accused?" Her husband asked.

"Princes are permitted to go where they will. Or so I told the guards." The Prince of Dorne took a seat.

"My lord father will be displeased with you."

"The happiness of Tywin Lannister has never been high on my list of concerns". The prince tilted his head slightly to face Sansa. "Did you poison him?"

"No." In truth, Sansa was not sure how to answer that.

"It is sad to see such a kindred soul locked up here. I know what it feels like to lose loved ones at the hands of a Lannister." Prince Oberyn flicked his head back to face Tyrion "no offense to you of course". The prince continued, "Cersei approached me, she spoke a great deal about her daughter. How worried she is about Myrcella. Your sister has a gift for mummery, for it was hard to believe that she wanted a pair of heads."

The Red Viper grinned. "I was surprised to meet a Lannister who shares my enthusiasm for dead Lannisters."

"To be sure, I have much to thank the queen for. If not for her accusation at the feast, it might well have been me on trial rather than the two of you." The prince's eyes were dark with amusement. "Who knows more of poison than the Red Viper of Dome, after all? Who has better reason to want to keep the Tyrells far from the crown? And with Joffrey in his grave, by Dornish law the Iron Throne should pass next to his sister Myrcella, who as it happens is betrothed to mine own nephew, thanks to you Lord Tyrion."

"Domish law does not apply. My father will crown Tommen, count on that."

"He may indeed crown Tommen, here in King's Landing. This is not to say that my brother may not crown Myrcella, down in Sunspear. Will your father make war on your niece on behalf of your nephew? Will your sister support her daughter over her son?"

"I do not know how my sister would choose, between Tommen and Myrcella," Tyrion admitted. "It makes no matter. My father will never give her that choice."

"Tywin Lannister," said Prince Oberyn, "may not live forever."

Something about that statement made her tummy flutter nervously.

"I was hoping one look at our sweet faces would be enough to persuade you all of our innocence."

"You are mistaken; The Fat Flower of Highgarden is quite convinced of your guilt, especially yours my lady. He believes that you wanted to kill his Margaery out of jealousy."

"That's not true." Sansa declared hotly.

"People are seldom as they appear. You both look so very guilty that I am convinced of your innocence. Justice is in short supply this side of the mountains. There has been none for Elia, Aegon, or Rhaenys. Why should there be any for you? Perhaps Joffrey's real killer was eaten by a bear. That seems to happen quite often in King's Landing. Oh, wait, the bear was at Harrenhal, now I remember."

"Is that the game we are playing?" Her husband rubbed at his hideously scarred nose. "There was a bear at Harrenhal, and it did kill Ser Amory Lorch."

"How sad for him," said the Red Viper. "And for you Lady Sansa. Is your husband always such a bad liar?"

Thankfully, Tyrion spoke up before she could answer.

"If it's justice that you seek, then you came to the wrong place."

"I would say that it's the perfect place, thanks to you. I am within rights to have my vengeance on the mountain who raped Elia with her son's blood on his hands. Your innocence may be obvious, but it will save neither of you." The Dornish prince smiled. "But I might, as your champion."


	10. Giant of Lannister

**Tyrion**

No sooner had Tyrion taken his place beside Sansa, before the judges, another group of gold cloaks led in Shae.

A cold hand tightened round his heart. Varys betrayed her, he thought. Then he remembered. No. I betrayed her myself. I should have left her with Lollys. Of course they'd question Sansa's maids, I'd do the same.

"They plotted it together," she said. "The Imp and Lady Sansa plotted it after the Young Wolf died. Sansa wanted revenge for her brother and Tyrion meant to have the throne. He was going to kill his sister next, and then his own lord father, so he could be Hand for Prince Tommen. But after a year or so, before Tommen got too old, he would have killed him too, so as to take the crown for his own head. He stole poison from the grandmaester's stores to kill King Joffrey."

"How could you know all this?" demanded Prince Oberyn. "Why would the Imp divulge such plans to his wife's maid?"

"I overheard some, m'lord," said Shae, "and m'lady let things slip too. But most I had from his own lips. I wasn't only Lady Sansa's maid."

He turned to avoid his wife's gaze for the coming storm. _This is going to be humiliating_ Tyrion thought to himself.

"I was his whore."

A collective gasp arose from the room.

"And how did you enter his service." His lord father's voice was full of displeasure.

She started sobbing then. "I never meant to be a whore, m'lords. I was to be married. A squire, he was, and a good brave boy, gentle born. But the Imp saw me at the Green Fork and put the boy I meant to marry in the front rank of the van, and after he was killed he sent his wildlings to bring me to his tent. Shagga, the big one, and Timett with the burned eye. He told me that I belonged to him and said to me, I want you to fuck me like it's my last night in this world."

Her damning words were followed by laughter.

Lord Tywin called for silence.

"And did you?" Prince Oberyn asked with amused curiosity.

"Did I what?"

"Fuck him like it was his last night in this world?"

He swore he could feel the color from Sansa's cheeks.

As the tears rolled slowly down that pretty face, no doubt every man in the hall wanted to take Shae in his arms and comfort her. "With my mouth and ... other parts, m'lord. All my parts. He used me every way there was, and ... he used to make me tell him how big he was. My giant, I had to call him, my giant of Lannister."

Osmund Kettleblack was the first to laugh. Boros and Meryn joined in, then Cersei, Ser Loras, and more lords and ladies than he could count. The sudden gale of mirth made the rafters ring and shook the Iron Throne. "It's true," Shae protested. "My giant of Lannister." The laughter swelled twice as loud. Their mouths were twisted in merriment, their bellies shook. Some laughed so hard that snot flew from their nostrils.

Everybody was laughing at him, everybody save his father who was disliked laughter in general, Jaime who looked apologetic, and Sansa whose gaze he could feel boring into his head.

Tyrion pushed forward. "MY LORDS!" he shouted. He had to shout, to have any hope of being heard.

His father raised a hand. Bit by bit, the hall grew silent.

"Father, I wish to confess." Tyrion felt the sadness in his own voice.

"I wish to confess" Tyrion spoke louder this time.

"You wish to confess?"

Tyrion stared up at his father's hard green eyes with their flecks of cold bright gold. "Guilty," he said, "so guilty. Is that what you wanted to hear? "

Lord Tywin said nothing. Mace Tyrell nodded. Prince Oberyn looked mildly disappointed. "You admit you poisoned the king?"

"Nothing of the sort," said Tyrion. "Of Joffrey's death I am innocent. I am guilty of a more monstrous crime." He pressed himself against the top of the accused stand, to get a better look at his father. "I'm guilty of not being your golden son."

"This is folly, Tyrion," declared Lord Tywin. "Speak to the matter at hand. You are not on trial for shaming the family."

"That is where you are wrong, my lord. I have never killed a king, murdered little children, or even fucked my own sister, but I am on trial all same." His voice was raw with spiteful emotion.

Nervous titters filled the room. If looks could kill, then Cersei would have had him dead on the spot. The look from Jaime was almost as chilling. Lord Tywin Lannister gave Tyrion a stare that could have cowed the Stranger himself. Prince Oberyn did not bother to hide his amusement.

"Have you nothing to say in your defense?"

"Nothing but this; I did not do it. Yet now I wish I had. Watching him die gave happiness unmatched by a hundred lying whores." He turned to face the hall, that sea of pale faces. "I wish I had enough poison for you all." He could hear his wife trying to distance herself from him as far as the chains allowed. "You make me sorry that I am not the monster you would have me be, yet there it is. We will not give our lives to Joffrey's murder and I know there will be no justice here. The gods shall decide our fate, we demand trial by battle.

"Have you taken leave of your wits?" his father said.

"No, I've found them. I demand trial by battle!"

His sweet sister could not have been more pleased. "They have that right, my lords," she reminded the judges. "Let the gods judge. Ser Gregor Clegane will stand for Joffrey. He returned to the city the night before last, to put his sword at my service."

"He does, my lord." Prince Oberyn of Dome rose to his feet. "The Imp and the maiden fair have quite convinced me."

The uproar was deafening. Tyrion took especial pleasure in the sudden doubt he glimpsed in Cersei's eyes. It took a hundred gold cloaks pounding the butts of their spears against the floor to quiet the throne room again. By then Lord Tywin Lannister had recovered himself. "Let the issue be decided on the morrow," he declared in iron tones. "I wash my hands of it." He gave his dwarf son a cold angry look, then strode from the hall, out the king's door behind the Iron Throne, his brother Kevan at his side.

**Jaime **

He was on his way to his quarters. At first, Jaime was angry at Tyrion for his outbursts, but now pity outweighed his anger by far. Tyrion had never been humiliated this much before to Jaime's knowledge.

He suddenly felt pangs of guilt for Tyrion. He wondered how Tyrion would respond if he knew the truth about Tysha. It would be better if Tyrion didn't know thought Jaime.

And what about Sansa? He remembered Sansa as her self-control faltered when they laughed at her. Thanks to Tyrion there was still a chance to save her.

When he reached his chambers, he found Varys.

"Varys, why are you here?" Jaime asked coldly.

"I would seem that your brother is very upset."

Jaime felt his phantom fingers twitch as Varys tittered.

"It would seem that the more innocent you are the more danger you face, would you not agree?"

Jaime lost his patience at that remark and reached for his dagger. His left hand was good for that at least.

"Varys," Jaime pressed the Dagger against the eunuch's throat. "Remember this, If Tyrion and his wife are allowed are allowed to die, then I will kill you and nobody will miss the Spider."

**Cersei**

_That little worm_ Cersei thought bitterly. Just when she had him dead to rights, he gets the one champion who could actually defeat Ser Gregor.

She was dining with the judges tonight. Cersei had hoped earlier that she could bask in the knowledge that her twisted little gargoyle of a brother would face Ser Ilyn with his wife.

Instead, Cersei was dining with her Tyrion's champion as well as the unsatisfied lord oaf of Highgarden and her father.

Her Valonqar was still a threat to her and her children.

A nervous squire entered the room with a flagon of Arbor Gold. He seemed strangely familiar, but she could not name him as he was not wearing his colors.

He motioned to fill her cup, but father demanded wine. The squire hesitated for a moment before filling her father's cup.

_Wrong choice_ she didn't say. When he was done, she motioned for her cup to be filled, once more.

"I'm sorry … your grace ... i'm out", the boy stuttered nervously.

"Then get some more." Cersei could hear her voice turning into a hiss.

The squire ran away rightly terrified of her wrath.

Her father gave a look of displeasure, but deep down she knew how smug he truly felt.

He took a sip from the goblet.

That smirk that the Red viper gave from across the table irritated her to no end.

_I hope you die tomorrow snake._


	11. The Mountain and the Viper

**Tyrion **

Tyrion found Prince Oberyn drinking a cup of red wine as he donned his armor. He was attended by four of his younger Dornish lordlings. "Good morrow to you, my lord," the prince said. "Will you take a cup of wine?"

"Should you be drinking before battle?"

"I always drink before battle."

"That could get you killed. Worse, it could get me killed."

Prince Oberyn laughed. "The gods defend the innocent. You are innocent, I trust?"

"Only of killing Joffrey," Tyrion admitted. "I do hope you know what you are about to face. Gregor Clegane is –

"Large? So I have heard."

"He is almost eight feet tall and must weigh thirty stone, all of it muscle. He fights with a two-handed greatsword, but needs only one hand to wield it. He has been known to cut men in half with a single blow. His armor is so heavy that no lesser man could bear the weight, let alone move in it."

Prince Oberyn was unimpressed. "I have killed large men before. The trick is to get them off their feet." The Domishman sounded so blithely confident that Tyrion felt almost reassured. "Daemon, my spear!" Ser Daemon tossed it to him, and the Red Viper snatched it from the air.

"You will have no cause for complaint. Though Ser Gregor may. However thick his plate, there will be gaps at the joints. Inside the elbow and knee, beneath the arms ... I will find a place to tickle him, I promise you." He set the spear aside. "It is said that a Lannister always pays his debts. Perhaps you will return to Sunspear with me when the day's bloodletting is done. My brother Doran would be most pleased to meet the rightful heir to Casterly Rock ... especially if he brought his lovely wife, the Lady of Winterfell."

"A trip to Dome would be very pleasant, my prince." Sansa interjected.

"Plan on a lengthy visit." Prince Oberyn sipped his wine. "The two of you and Doran have many matters of mutual interest to discuss. Music, trade, history, wine, the dwarf's penny." Sansa's face darkened somewhat at the reminder of Shae." The laws of inheritance and succession. No doubt the counsel of an aunt and uncle would be of benefit to Queen Myrcella in the trying times ahead."

The outer ward had been chosen for the combat. It looked as though a thousand people had come to see if he would live or die. They lined the castle wallwalks and elbowed one another on the steps of keeps and towers. They watched from the stable doors, from windows and bridges, from balconies and roofs. And the yard was packed with them, so many that the gold cloaks and the knights of the Kingsguard had to shove them back to make enough room for the fight. Some had dragged out chairs to watch more comfortably, while others perched on barrels. We should have done this in the Dragonpit, Tyrion thought sourly. We could have charged a penny a head and paid for Joffrey's wedding and funeral both. Some of the onlookers even had small children sitting on their shoulders, to get a better view.

Cersei seemed half a child herself beside Ser Gregor. In his armor, the Mountain looked bigger than any man had any right to be. Beneath a long yellow surcoat bearing the three black dogs of Clegane, he wore heavy plate over chainmail, dull grey steel dinted and scarred in battle. Beneath that would be boiled leather and a layer of quilting. A flat-topped greathelm was bolted to his gorget, with breaths around the mouth and nose and a narrow slit for vision. The crest atop it was a stone fist.

If Ser Gregor was suffering from wounds, Tyrion could see no sign of it from across the yard. He looks as though he was chiseled out of rock, standing there. His greatsword was planted in the ground before him, six feet of scarred metal. Ser Gregor's huge hands, clad in gauntlets of lobstered steel, clasped the crosshilt to either side of the grip. Even Prince Oberyn's paramour paled at the sight of him. "You are going to fight that?" Ellaria Sand said in a hushed voice.

"I am going to kill that," her lover replied carelessly.

"But he is the biggest man I've ever seen." Her voice was full of doubt.

"Size does not matter when you are flat on your back."

Tyrion could not help but smirk at the remark.

He had his own doubts, now that they stood on the brink. When he looked at Prince Oberyn, he found himself wishing he had Bronn defending him ... or even better, Jaime. The Red Viper was lightly armored; greaves, vambraces, gorget, spaulder, steel codpiece. Elsewise Oberyn was clad in supple leather and flowing silks. Over his byrnie he wore his scales of gleaming copper, but mail and scale together would not give him a quarter the protection of Gregor's heavy plate. With its visor removed, the prince's helm was effectively no better than a halfhelm, lacking even a nasal. His round steel shield was brightly polished, and showed the sun-and-spear in red gold, yellow gold, white gold, and copper.

A platform had been erected beside the Tower of the Hand, halfway between the two champions. That was where Lord Tywin sat with his brother Ser Kevan on his right, and Cersei on his left. King Tommen was not in evidence; for that, at least, Tyrion was grateful.

Lord Tywin glanced briefly at his dwarf son, then lifted his hand. A dozen trumpeters blew a fanfare to quiet the crowd. The High Septon shuffled forward in his tall crystal crown, and prayed that the Father Above would help them in this judgment, and that the Warrior would lend his strength to the arm of the man whose cause was just. That would be me, Tyrion almost shouted, but they would only laugh, and he was sick unto death of laughter.

Ser Osmund Kettleblack brought Clegane his shield, a massive thing of heavy oak rimmed in black iron. As the Mountain slid his left arm through the straps, Tyrion saw that the hounds of Clegane had been painted over. This morning Ser Gregor bore the seven-pointed star the Andals had brought to Westeros when they crossed the narrow sea to overwhelm the First Men and their gods. Very pious of you, Cersei, but I doubt the gods will be impressed.

Clegane pulled a large vial of something from a squire and downed it instantly._ Probably milk of the poppy_ thought Tyrion. The mountain drank milk of the poppy the same way his younger brother drank wine.

There were fifty yards between them. Prince Oberyn advanced quickly, Ser Gregor more ominously. The ground does not shake when he walks, Tyrion told himself. That is only my heart fluttering. When the two men were ten yards apart, the Red Viper stopped and called out, "Have they told you who I am?"

Ser Gregor grunted through his breaths. "Some dead man." He came on, inexorable.

The Domishman slid sideways. "I am Oberyn Martell, a prince of Dome," he said, as the Mountain turned to keep him in sight. "Princess Elia was my sister. Do you know why I've come to this stinking pile of golden shit they call King's Landing?"

"For you."

Oberyn's long spear jabbed, but Ser Gregor took the point on his shield, shoved it aside, and bulled back at the prince, his great sword flashing as if it were an ordinary man's longsword. The Domishman spun away untouched. The spear darted forward. Clegane slashed at it, Martell snapped it back, then thrust again. Metal screamed on metal as the spearhead slid off the Mountain's chest, slicing through the surcoat and leaving a long bright scratch on the steel beneath. "Elia Martell, Princess of Dome," the Red Viper hissed. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."

Ser Gregor grunted. He made a ponderous charge to hack at the Domishman's head. Prince Oberyn avoided him easily. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."

"Did you come to talk or to fight?"

"I came to hear you confess." The Red Viper landed a quick thrust on the Mountain's belly, to no effect. Gregor cut at him, and missed. The long spear lanced in above his sword. Like a serpent's tongue it flickered in and out, feinting low and landing high, jabbing at groin, shield, eyes. The Mountain makes for a big target, at the least, Tyrion thought. Prince Oberyn could scarcely miss, though none of his blows was penetrating Ser Gregor's heavy plate. The Dornishman kept circling, jabbing, then darting back again, forcing the bigger man to turn and turn again. Clegane is losing sight of him. The Mountain's helm had a narrow eyeslit, severely limiting his vision. Oberyn was making good use of that, and the length of his spear, and his quickness.

"You raped her," he called, feinting. "You murdered her," he said, dodging a looping cut from Gregor's greatsword. "You killed her children," he shouted, slamming the spearpoint into the giant's throat, only to have it glance off the thick steel gorget with a screech.

"Oberyn is toying with him," said Ellaria Sand.

That is fool's play, thought Tyrion. "The Mountain is too bloody big to be any man's toy."

"You raped her." Prince Oberyn parried a savage cut with his spearhead. "You murdered her." He sent the spearpoint at Clegane's eyes, so fast the huge man flinched back. "You killed her children." The spear flickered sideways and down, scraping against the Mountain's breastplate. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children." The spear was two feet longer than Ser Gregor's sword, more than enough to keep him at an awkward distance. He hacked at the shaft whenever Oberyn lunged at him, trying to lop off the spearhead, but he might as well have been trying to hack the wings off a fly. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children." Gregor tried to bull rush, but Oberyn skipped aside and circled round his back. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."

"Be quiet." Ser Gregor seemed to be moving somewhat slower, and his greatsword no longer rose quite as high as it had when the contest began. "Shut your bloody mouth." His speech seemed a bit slurred. Tyrion briefly wondered if he had too much milk of the poppy, but that seemed unlikely.

"You raped her," the prince said, moving to the right.

"Enough!" Ser Gregor took two long strides and brought his sword down at Oberyn's head, but the Domishman back stepped once more. "You murdered her," he said.

"SHUT UP." Gregor charged headlong, right at the point of the spear, which slammed into his right breast then slid aside with a hideous steel shriek. Suddenly the Mountain was close enough to strike, his huge sword flashing in a steel blur. The crowd was screaming as well. Oberyn slipped the first blow and let go of the spear, useless now that Ser Gregor was inside it. The second cut the Domishman caught on his shield. Metal met metal with an ear-splitting clang sending the Red Viper reeling. Ser Gregor followed, bellowing. He doesn't use words, he just roars like an animal, Tyrion thought. Oberyn's retreat became a headlong backward flight mere inches ahead of the greatsword as it slashed at his chest, his arms, his head.

But the Red Viper of Dome was back on his feet, his long spear in hand. "Elia," he called at Ser Gregor. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children. Now say her name.

The Mountain whirled. Helm, shield, sword, surcoat; he was spattered with gore from head to heels. "You talk too much," he slurred. "You make my head hurt." Clegane's strength was definitely fading.

"I will hear you say it. She was Elia of Dome."

Prince Oberyn tilted his dinted metal shield. A shaft of sunlight blazed blindingly off polished gold and copper, into the narrow slit of his foe's helm. Clegane lifted his own shield against the glare. Prince Oberyn's spear flashed like lightning and found the gap in the heavy plate, the joint under the arm. The point punched through mail and boiled leather. Gregor gave a choked grunt as the Domishman twisted his spear and yanked it free. "Elia. Say it! Elia. of Dome!" His spear poised for another thrust. "Say it!"

Tyrion had his own prayer. Fall down and die, was how it went. Damn you, fall down and die! The blood trickling from the Mountain's armpit was his own now, and he must be bleeding even more heavily inside the breastplate. When he tried to take a step, one knee buckled. Tyrion thought he was going down.

Prince Oberyn had circled behind him. "ELIA OF DORNE!" he shouted. Ser Gregor started to turn, but too slow and too late. The spearhead went through the back of the knee this time, through the layers of chain and leather between the plates on thigh and calf. The Mountain reeled, swayed, then collapsed on his knees. His huge sword fell from his hand.

The Dornishman flung away his ruined shield, grasped the spear in both hands, and sauntered away. Oberyn whirled cat-quick, and ran at his fallen foe. EEELLLLLLIIIIIAAAAA!" He screamed, as he drove the spear down with the whole weight of his body behind it. The crack of the ashwood shaft snapping was almost as sweet a sound as Cersei's wail of fury, and for an instant Prince Oberyn had wings. The snake hit the Mountain with his full force and brought him down on his back. A broken spear jutted from Clegane's belly as Prince Oberyn rolled, rose, and dusted himself off. He tossed aside the splintered spear and claimed his foe's greatsword.

"No, no, no you can't die yet. You haven't confessed. Say it. Say her name. Elia Martell. Who gave you the order?"

Suddenly Prince Oberyn turned to face Lord Tywin, whose face was devoid any noticible emotion.

"WHO GAVE YOU THE ORDER?" Oberyn shouted at the top of his lungs while pointing the Mountian's greatsword in the direction of his lord father.

Ser Gregor tried to rise, the broken spear had gone through him, and was pinning him to the ground. He wrapped both hands about the shaft, grunting, but could not pull it out. Beneath him was a spreading pool of red. "I am feeling more innocent by the instant," Tyrion told Sansa beside him who was having difficulty in containing her own joy.

Prince Oberyn moved closer. "Say the name!" He put a foot on the Mountain's chest and raised the greatsword with both hands.

Clegane's right hand shot up to grab the Dornishman, but was too slow and grasped only air. Oberyn easily avoided Ser Gregor's Grip and brought the greatsword down on the mountain's wrist and nearly severed hand from arm.

"Tywin … Lannister." Clegane's breath came in ragged gasps.

"Good enough." The Red Viper responded much to Tyrion's surprise.

In three glorious swings Prince Oberyn Martell removed the mountain's head.

Tywin Lannister stood up; once again the Seven had humiliated him. "The gods have made their will known. Tyrion and Sansa of the house Lannister are innocent of King Joffrey's murder."

Ser Addam walked over to his wife and unshackled her.

Tyrion took a moment to study the crowd before he left. His sister was as furious as he could recall, and that was saying something. Jaime gave a strangely knowing smirk towards him. The Tyrells who seemed to be in the biggest hurry to leave, looked angry and possibly fearful, of himself, his father, or Prince Oberyn, he was not sure.

Prince Oberyn approached Lord Tywin holding the severed head of Ser Gregor Clegane in the crook of his arm, with the audacity few had when it came to Tywin Lannister.

"Lord Tywin?" Prince Oberyn asked with mocking courtesy. "My brother would very much like to see this."

His father who was normally the living embodiment of self-control, kept his voice emotionless and steady with great difficulty. "Of course."

Prince Oberyn waited a moment as the spectators hastened their exit in fear of his lord father's wrath.

"Princess Myrcella would be very grateful if I brought her aunt and uncle to visit."

Cersei was ready to object, but father cut her off with the slightest of nods.

Tyrion was overjoyed. Soon he would leave King's Landing for Dorne and be out of the reach of the denizens of the Red Keep.

Sansa gave a wordless cry of delight. When she finally looked at him, Tyrion saw something he thought he would never see. A smile that was meant for him. Losing himself in the moment he embraced her under the withering glare of his sweet sister. The last time Tyrion was this relieved, he was with Shae. He pushed thoughts of that lying whore out of his head, as he felt what he thought were tears of joy. As for Sansa, he had never really seen her truly happy until now.

But it was not a complete victory; they would never be safe so long as his Cersei was the queen of seven kingdoms.


	12. A day of freedom

**Sansa **

She was free. Well, at least from immenent death if not yet King's Landing. Tyrion had assured her that even if Prince Oberyn won, they were still in grave danger. Soon she would leave for Dorne. They would not be alone on the journey; Ser Balon Swann was to accompany them formally delivering the head of Gregor Clegane to Prince Doran. Sansa was unsure of what to think of Ser Balon. The knight was courteous, but there was something else about him. A willingness to carry out orders for the queen no matter how horrible they were was what her husband said. She never forgot how nervous Tyrion seemed on the subject of the Kingsguard.

The last night they had spent in their old apartments. Sansa was surprised that she missed them as much as they did. What she really missed however was the freedom of the Castle. She went to the godswood for solitude. Hopefully, she would never have to set foot in King's Landing again. For Sansa, this was goodbye.

**Tyrion **

The tension in the small council was as thick as he had ever seen. Tyrion was thankful that a ship left for Sunspear tonight. Mace Tyrell could do naught but glower at him as well as the Red Viper who was clearly enjoying the looks of hostility he received. Saving Tyrion had not earned Prince Oberyn many friends in King's Landing. Cersei welcomed him with her usual sweet voice laced with poison. _I'm not going to kill Myrcella,_ he almost said. Varys showed an expression that seemed to emit both disappointment and relief at the same time. _You have a few things to answer for Varys._

His father looked rather sick with annoyance at the sight of him. He wondered why father allowed him to go to Dorne with Sansa in tow. He expected that father was loath to let him leave the capitol. If he refused, he would certainly offend the Martells. He knew Cersei would risk father's wrath by taking matters into her own hands if he was in King's Landing long enough. _That would probably be why Sansa is allowed to go with me_ thought Tyrion_._

Tyrion thought briefly about the subject of Myrcella. His support for Myrcella over Tommen which Prince Oberyn was seeking would mean little, at least as long as father lives. _What game is the Red Viper playing_?

Lord Tywin began without preamble "Lord Baelish will be recalled to the capital to assume the duties of Master of Coin."

Varys seemed quite amused. "I wonder how happy he will be to leave his beloved Lysa."

So Littlefinger did marry Lysa Arryn. That was news to Tyrion. _Once again I crawled out of a tiny grave to find the game changed._ Petyr Baelish was now the lord of the Eyrie in fact if not in name.

The meeting although rather short for small council meetings seemed to be the meeting he would have as the council spoke of his plans to leave for Dorne. Mace Tyrell demanded that his daughter marry Tommen as soon as possible and probably not for the first time.

Tyrion could grasp that his father wanted not only Cersei separated from Tommen, but him as well. He could not marry her to Willas Tyrell, he knew Prince Oberyn would never accept. Tyrion heard that Euron Greyjoy had inherited Pyke under suspicous circumstances. Would he agree to a marriage with Cersei.

When it was over, his father motioned for him to stay. Tyrion remained in the room with father, uncle Kevan, and Cersei and Jaime. _Oh joy, a family meeting_.

"Tyrion" Lord Tywin seemed to be reading his thoughts. "I expect you will further King Tommen's interests in Dorne."

"Of course I will," Tyrion said carelessly. The message was clear; _don't even think of backing Myrcella, or I will finally have an excuse to remove the stain to House Lannister that you are._

**Note: Don't expect me to be in much of a hurry to update this story. I have other stories (such as "the game ends") that I want to write and a job that blesses me with more and more hours.**

**Update: expect this story to be updated following the premiere of season 5. I intend for this story to keep to a book and show hybrid format.**


	13. The Children

**Tyrion**

Tyrion Lannister stared at the long line of unoccupied spikes glistening in the afternoon sun as if ready for a new group of unfortunate traitors. He was thankful, of course, that his head was still upon his shoulders and not rotting on one of them. Below the spikes, were even more spikes, lining the dry moat of Maegor's Holdfast. Maegor the Cruel had loved pointy things, it seemed. A pity that his death was rumored to have been caused by his own father's need for such a chair.

The drawbridge that spanned the moat was now manned by none other than Ser Balon Swann, the only knight other than Jaime and maybe Ser Loras, who truly had any right to wear a white cloak. As if the thought of a Tyrell was enough to bring one forth, the Knight of Flowers himself approached the foot of the drawbridge from the direction of the White Sword Tower. He seemed sullen and as hot-tempered as a Dornishman. Certainly the sight of the man who, to Loras's eyes, still appeared guilty of trying to murder his sister could not have helped.

"You are relieved, Ser Balon." To his credit, Loras tried not to direct any of his anger towards his sworn brother. "Ser Jaime wishes to speak with you before you leave for Sunspear, Ser." His face was almost stoic at the mention of Dorne.

Tensions within the Red Keep were high today. With his dying breath the Mountain that rode had admitted that Tywin Lannister had ordered the death of Elia Martell and her children. Not surprisingly, Oberyn Martell was not satisfied with killing Gregor Clegane. If given the chance, he would likely pick off every Lannister in King's Landing save perhaps himself.

Every denizen of the Red Keep from his father to the lowest watchman was on edge, and for good reason. Violence had broken out on the Street of Silk last night when a pair of drunken lordlings from Dorne assaulted an equally drunk squire and his friends at Chataya's. The ensuing riot ended when no fewer than fifty men of the City Watch entered the fray. Peace was restored at the cost of one Dornish lord, three retainers, and four Lannister squires.

Tyrion watched Ser Balon, his protector as defined by the powers that be, leave for the White Sword Tower. He wondered what Jaime wanted to speak with Ser Balon about. Hopefully it would have something to do with preventing accidents.

In his stead stood brash Ser Loras Tyrell, in white enameled plate, at the drawbridge, his white cloak billowing in the autumn wind. The white knight did not like his presence but kept his face sullen. There was something strange about the Tyrells. Ever since the trial had ended, they looked at him with either loathing or nervousness. Then again, Tyrion saw enemies everywhere now.

The wooden gate opened, and he saw servants moving the holdings of his pitiful household. Most of it was clothing, but there were some personal effects as well, some his own, and some belonging to Sansa.

At the head of the procession was Podrick. That the boy was still around truly touched him. No other squire in the Seven Kingdoms could boast of such dedication to their master. Well, maybe Loras Tyrell could have, Tyrion thought with a grin.

"Podrick, my loyal squire. How are you still here?" Podrick merely shrugged as if such a thing was simply expected of him.

With them, he waddled down the stairs to the courtyard below. At the bottom, he instructed Podrick to move everything to a stable on the Rosby Road just outside of the Iron Gate. There they would wait for word to board the ship that had been commissioned by Cersei as a nameday gift for Myrcella. As he saw the procession left without him, He could not help but wonder if Cersei was having second thoughts about the gift, that he would sail out of King's Landing. For once, he found irony as sweet as a peach.

Tyrion cast his mismatched eyes in the direction of the Royal Sept. Outside the seven-sided building, he noticed none other than Prince Oberyn walking towards him. He walked in a calm rhythmic gait that gave no indication of the fact that he was a viper in human skin.

"Lord Tyrion," Oberyn called out. Tyrion moved to join the Dornish prince. It occurred to him, bitterly, that the Viper's leisurely swaying gait seemed like a cruel parody of his own waddle.

"My duties on the small council will keep me here it seems. When you get to Sunspear, will you see them, will you remind them just how much I love them?" He continued with only the slightest indication of mourning, "Especially Elia, it has been too long."

Oberyn picked up the pace and Tyrion made no effort to keep up. The Red Viper turned around one last time with some distance between them. "Farewell, Lord Imp, send Myrcella my regards." A chill went down Tyrion's spine as the Viper said farewell. Whether from a gust of wind or something else, he could not say.

He made his way for the godswood where he was certain he would find Sansa before linking up with the party of Dornish sailors at the postern gate of the castle's north wall.

As he passed the barracks at the base of the tower of the Hand, he could see two pairs of City Watchman bearing heavy loads on stretchers and covered in light woolen blankets. Once they were within the barracks, and out of his sight, Tyrion picked up his pace. He didn't need half a nose to smell the coming storm.

**Jaime**

He gestured to the Weirwood door that marked the entrence to the Lord Commander's office with his phantom hand. "Ser Loras, we will talk more of this later. You may leave Brienne with me."

The wench looked as ugly and awkward as ever, he decided when Tyrell left them. Someone had dressed her in woman's clothes again, but this dress fit much better than that hideous pink rag the goat had made her wear.

"Blue is a good color on you, my lady," Jaime observed. "It goes well with your eyes." She does have astonishing eyes, Jaime admitted to himself.

Brienne glanced down at herself, flustered. "Septa Donyse padded out the bodice, to give it that shape. She said you sent her to me." She lingered by the door, as if she meant to flee at any second. "You look..."

"Different?" He managed a half-smile. "More meat on the ribs and fewer lice in my hair, that's all. The stump's the same. Close the door and come here."

She did as he bid her. "The white cloak..."

"... is new," Jaime suggested, "but I'm sure I'll soil it soon enough."

"That wasn't... I was about to say that it becomes you."

He spoke without preamble, "I have a gift for you." He reached down under the Lord Commander's chair and brought it out, wrapped in folds of crimson velvet.

Brienne approached as if the bundle was like to bite her, reached out a huge freckled hand, and flipped back a fold of cloth. Rubies glimmered in the light. She picked the treasure up gingerly, curled her fingers around the leather grip, and slowly slid the sword free of its scabbard. Blood and black the ripples shone. A finger of reflected light ran red along the edge. "Is this Valyrian steel? I have never seen such colors."

"Nor have I. There was a time when I would have given my right hand to wield a sword like that. Now it appears I have, so the blade is wasted on me. Take it." Before she could think to refuse, he went on. "A sword so fine must bear a name. It would please me if you would call this one Oathkeeper. One more thing. The blade comes with a price."

Her face darkened. "I told you, I will never serve..."

"... such foul creatures as us. Yes, I recall. Hear me out, Brienne. Both of us swore oaths concerning Sansa Stark. Cersei mean to see her killed... innocent or guilty."

Brienne's homely face twisted in fury. "If you believe that I would harm my lady's daughter for a sword, you -"

"Just listen," he snapped, angered by her assumption. "I want you to see her to somewhere safe, like maybe Dorne. How else are the two of us going to make good our stupid vows to your precious dead Lady Catelyn?"

The wench blinked. "I... I thought..."

"I know what you thought." Suddenly Jaime was sick of the sight of her. She bleats like a bloody sheep. "When Ned Stark died, his greatsword was given to the King's justice," he told her. "But my father felt that such a fine blade was wasted on a mere headsman. He gave Ser Ilyn a new sword, and had Ice melted down and reforged. There was enough metal for two new blades. You're holding one. So you'll be defending Ned Stark's daughter with Ned Stark's own steel, if that makes any difference to you."

"Ser, I... I owe you an apolo..."

He cut her off. "Take the bloody sword and go, before I change my mind. Go to Dorne as I suggested and make good of the oaths, or if you prefer to chase after Steelshanks. There's a bay mare in the stables, as homely as you are but somewhat better trained. Or maybe you should just ride home to your isle of sapphires, it's naught to me. I don't want to look at you anymore."

"Jaime..."

"Kingslayer," he reminded her. "Best use that sword to clean the wax out of your ears, wench. We're done."

She bowed her head stiffly and left. "I will go to Dorne," were the last words she offered before leaving the room.

When he was all alone, he could hear his own sigh. The Red Keep felt more and more like a place of ghosts for Jaime Lannister.

**Cersei**

"We've been over this before as I recall. You will marry. The Tyrells refused my offer for your hand, but there will be others."

"I will not," Cersei spoke to her father as if nothing was more obvious.

"Jaime cannot marry nor, inherit lands. Your other brother is headed to Dorne, and I'll be rotting in the ground, before I let him inherit the rock."

He looked up from the letter he was reading, which was just a way of him showing how little he truly cared about his daughter. The daughter that he sold like just another brood mare, to a fat, witless sot who was the most unworthy of kings since Aegon the Unworthy. Cersei allowed that thought to fuel her anger as she looked him the eye. Eyes which told her how little he cared about her objections. She might have backed down from that stare once, but now she was angry enough not to care.

"You have told me more than once that you were the most capable of advancing our family's future. Your role in that future is more vital than ever now."

"I will not be shipped off to another unworthy husband to lie on my back while he has his way with me so that I can make you more pieces for your ambitions. I am the Queen Regent and I will remain in King's Landing, where I belong, with my son the King!"

"You are my daughter, and you will do as I bid. You have disgraced the Lannister name for far too long. You will marry again, and you will breed again." Her lord father's low voice brooked no room for argument, but Cersei was undeterred.

"No, I will stay here with my son and protect him. Joffrey is dead. Myrcella has been given to a nest of vipers by the man who murdered him. Now you want to send me away. You want to separate me from Tommen and steal away my last boy. Margaery will dig her claws in him, and so will you, and so will that vile snake until there's nothing left of him."

Tywin Lannister still looked at her as if she were only an angry child and not his queen.

"You already ruined one son and that cost us a war. You cannot handle the responsibilities of queen regent, no more than you are of capable of raising wise future kings!"

She slammed her clenched fist onto the desk. "I will burn our house to the ground, before I allow that to happen."

His face was full of color now. "And how will you burn down House Lannister?"

Cersei allowed a grin. "I will tell everybody the truth."

"What truth?"

Cersei could not helped but be astonished at her father's ignorance. How could he not have heard? Stannis Baratheon's proclamation had hit every castle from Dorne to the Wall. "You don't even know do you? How is that possible?" Laughter burst from her gullet at the absurdity of it all. "Why am I even asking, of course it's possible. How does a man so consumed with his family legacy not even notice what his family was doing? We were right there in front of you and you didn't even see the truth, the truth that killed Eddard Stark."

"What murderous truth would I have known?" She could see it finally, a twinge of doubt in his emerald-gold eyes. Only now did the great Lion of the West seem to understand what he was hearing.

"Everything they say is true, about Jaime and I. Eddard Stark, Stannis Baratheon, Tyrion, they all knew. Your legacy is a lie."

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he began coughing violently "I do not believe you." He spoke in between coughs which became more violent though nowhere near as violent as Joffrey had when he had died.

"Get out." Splotches of something left his mouth.

She turned to leave, and felt something wet upon her bodice. Cersei ran a finger across the wetness, and her fingers were stained red. A very dark stain of crimson, just like her dress.


End file.
